


Those Left Unwritten

by Little_Queen_of_Dreams



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F, Little adventure with the Doctor and friends, My favorite homicidal potato, Strax is so much fun to write, Victorian Clothing, idk how to tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:08:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25156768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Queen_of_Dreams/pseuds/Little_Queen_of_Dreams
Summary: “Don’t worry, it won’t be dangerous this time.”After all, it was a Victorian farmers market, what could go wrong?Yazmin Khan currently felt obligated to punch the Doctor in the face for that remark.
Relationships: Jenny Flint & Madame Vastra, Jenny Flint & Strax & Madame Vastra, Jenny Flint/Madame Vastra, Madame Vastra & Original Female Character(s), River Song & Jenny Flint, River Song & Madame Vastra, River Song & Original Female Character(s), The Doctor & Original Female Character(s), The Doctor/River Song, Thirteenth Doctor & Yasmin Khan & Graham O'Brien & Ryan Sinclair, Thirteenth Doctor/River Song, Yasmin Khan & Original Female Character(s), Yasmin Khan & River Song
Comments: 4
Kudos: 39





	1. Just a Peaceful Trip

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't seen much of the 13th doctor, so I'm writing this pre-timeless child.
> 
> (Back when stuff was more or less happy).
> 
> Please let me know what you think (I post once or twice a week with my entire account, and I try to post for the stories that seem to have actual readers).
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated!

“Don’t worry, it won’t be dangerous this time.”

After all, it was a Victorian farmers market, what could go wrong?

Yazmin Khan currently felt obligated to punch the Doctor in the face for that remark.

It was supposed to have been a simple sort of trip to Victorian London, a chance to see the sights and enjoy the lack of technology (or, alternatively, hate it and regret every decision that had brought you to this point).

That, especially, was something Yaz was considering, hunched against a large sack, attempting to compact her voluminous skirt into the smallest possible amount of space while the Doctor went off (significantly more worried than normal) to get back Graham and Ryan from wherever they’d been captured to.

She’d taken refuge behind the closest unattended market stall, desperately hoping whoever owned it would be taking the day off, be kind enough to let her continue hiding, or have died.

It wasn’t a pretty thought, but she didn’t want to be interrupted and sentenced with the others (or killed).

So, scrunched up between an almost frightening amount of apples, she found herself considering how the hell she’d ended up here in the first place.

The day had started as they normally did, another new adventure with its own new rules and regulations. 

(None of which the Doctor actually followed).

However, it was when they’d encountered the robots that Yaz knew her day was shot.

The Doctor hadn’t mentioned what they were, just that they were dangerous and to be on guard. 

To her, they seemed almost steampunk, gears and clockwork audible if you happened to listen. 

Then Ryan and Graham had gotten kidnapped when the Doctor had found herself distracted by a clockwork squirrel (that was somehow better than her own).

Lost in thought, it took a moment for her to notice the girl.

She seemed young, blonde hair pulled up and intricately braided, much like her demeanor, holding herself the way royalty would, stately and calm with an air of pride. Her navy blue dress didn’t do anything to hinder her ideal status either, a deep blue brocade set with impressive needlework.

However, what her bun and hat failed to completely hide were a pair of sharply pointed ears.

Yaz had seen those ears before, racking her brain as the mystery woman went from stall to stall until landing on hers.

“You don’t have your hair Boleyn style.” She leaned over the counter, giving Yaz a better look at her face, eyes much too old for the youth the rest of it seemed to hold. Giving her a smirk, she coolly made her way over to the other side, placing herself down on a barrel. “No rejoiner?”

The smirk, the eyes, the cadence of her voice. It hit her who she was. “Alice?”

“You remembered me, I wasn’t sure you would, seeing as you were eavesdropping a good deal away from the Doctor and I.”

Her face flushed, remembering the queer girl who had shown up, speaking with the Doctor like an old friend. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I got a ride, I’m on my way to tea, and I thought I’d take a look at the market. Jenny does love the summer strawberries.” She traced a basket of them resting on a crate. “What’s going on with you?”

Alice’s smirk turned into a grimace as she relayed the story, she paused for a moment to take it all in. “That can’t be it, the clockwork people were months ago.”

“So you’ve seen them?”

“Not personally, that was back with Twelve and Clara.” She bit her lip. “It doesn’t add up though, they were destroyed.”

“Someone must have taken them out of the rubble, or gotten them beforehand.” Gently, she eased herself onto one of the other barrels.

“But who?” Alice took a moment to survey the crowd, eyes narrowing as they landed on a woman purchasing a small bundle of pears. “That’s odd.”

“What?” Yaz looked in her direction. “I don’t see anything.”

“Her,” Alice gestured vaguely, “Her clothes detail her to be in the lower end of the middle class, but-”

“Her earrings.”

“Exactly!” Her grin returned. “They’re too expensive for her to have, much less wear on a normal outing, besides, they’re too old.”

Yaz leaned back in her seat, skeptically. “If they’re too old, they could just be an heirloom.”

“Heirlooms traditionally have reverence attached. They seem to be from the Tudor era, with a pearl drop like that. Also,” she gestured to another woman, “she’s wearing a Roman necklace, see how blocky it is? It’s meant for a man, I think.” She turned back to Yaz. “No one in their class could afford it, much less pay for it. Anyone who knew the proper Victorian way wouldn’t dare to wear them out like this.”

“So they’re not human?” She considered the thought.

“Definitely not, besides,” her eyes widened once more as she ran her fingers across the side of a box. “Look at this.”

Yaz bent forward to get a better look. The boards fit together seamlessly, as if, “they’d grown to bond with it.”

By now, Alice was grinning like a Cheshire. “No wonder she didn't tell you what they were, she didn't know. Faeries don’t exist in the whoverse.”

“Faeries?”

“Celtic folklore faeries. The sort of fey that would steal your children and curse you, etc. They’re trying to blend in with a sort of illusion, using past tributes and things they’ve pilfered to reveal who they are to others. There’s no nails in this because they have no use with their abilities. Look around,” she jerked her head, “I'll bet you won’t find a single piece of iron around here, they can’t touch it. I don’t know if they’re my sort of fey, but they’re definitely fey of some sort.”

“So what do we do?” She’d opted to ignore the part about ‘her own fey.’ The Doctor went off on the same sorts of tangents without bothering to acknowledge questions, with the tirade Alice was on, she seemed to be the same.

“You are going to Madame Vastra’s,” she extracted a few slips of paper from her skirt, along with a notepad, absentmindedly handing the paper while scribbling out a message. “Take this to her and let me know when you get there, my number’s at the bottom.” She stopped cold. “You do have your phone, right?” 

“Yeah,” she took the paper. “What are you going to do?”

Alice pulled out a hand mirror and removed her blue slip of a hat, revealing a tiara inlaid with red stones. “This was a tribute to mother, I should fit right in.” She rolled her eyes at Yaz’s expression. “I’m a faerie myself and I’m not about to leave the Doctor unsupervised. Here,” hefting up her skirt, she pulled a futuristic looking pistol from a garter. 

“What am I supposed to do with this?” Paper stowed away, she held it awkwardly.

“It’s not lethal, don’t worry.” Alice rolled her eyes again, taking another and fitting it into a pocket. “I can’t do anything about the design, but they’re perfectly safe. Nat won’t let me go anywhere without at least two. You’re a cop, right?”

Grudgingly, Yaz hid it within the folds of her skirt. “I know how to shoot, but I’m not an American, we don’t resort to them as easily.” She raised her eyes, almost pleadingly. “Let me help, I'm not about to hide while you go off on your own.”

“The most good you can do right now is get to Vastra’s,” she gave herself a once over in her mirror before returning it (to wherever the hell she was getting these things), putting a hand up at Yaz’s protests. “This isn’t supposed to exist, so I can’t exactly guarantee your safety. I wasn’t there for Clara or Bill, but I’m damn sure I’m going to keep you alive.” She stood. “Don’t worry about all this, no one’s going to notice any scheming. The address is on the card and you can go up to any policemen and ask where it is. They’ll know.” She gave a quick smile before disappearing into the crowd, her last words so quick and quiet Yaz almost lost them. 

“I’ll let you know if I need Pond.”


	2. Madame Vastra's

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think!!
> 
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated (especially during a pandemic).
> 
> I tried to do a bit of Jenny's accent (idk how well it was)
> 
> Also: STRAX IS SO FUN TO WRITE!! (I love my homicidal potato)

As a policewoman herself, Yasmin Khan felt as though she should be knowledgeable about the London layout.

However, the modern streets of London were a whole other nightmare compared to the streets of Victorian England. 

It was only after delving down three disreputable places (and getting accosted by a drunk man with a surprisingly good singing voice) that she found herself willing to speak to a policeman.

Sure enough, he knew exactly where to point her to.

From the information she could glean, Madame Vastra was well known among the force as a detective occasionally working with Scotland Yard. She seemed to be a queer sort of person, rather reclusive with her maid and oddly shaped butler who she insisted remain with her during investigations. 

(Though, the butler was normally sent out by her own order a short while after for his strong affinity towards grenades).

Finding herself at the stoop, the door was opened by who she assumed was the butler. Oddly shaped seemed a fitting way to describe the man, who’s stunted, stocky appearance made him seem like a potato that had sprouted both legs and arms, his hands oddly containing just three fingers. The potato glared at her. 

“Welcome, boy. How may I assist you?”

“Alice sent me,” she slipped the cards from her pocket handing them to him. “I’m a friend of the Doctor-”

“The Doctor!” His face brightened considerably, an odd grin matching his odd appearance. “I shall get Madame Vastra. Wait here, human scum.”

“What?” She raised her eyebrows.

His expression shifted, annoyed at an inner reminder. “I shall notify Madame Vastra, please wait honored guest.” Letting her slip through to the entryway, he abandoned his post, little potato legs hurriedly shuffling down the corridor.

Left to her own devices, Yaz took a moment to observe the foyer she’d been placed in. They were certainly friends of the Doctor, she was sure of that. The Doctor rarely spoke of friends, with so many dead she normally just exposited what was necessary when they’d encounter them and move on from there, leaving said friend to explain in their own sort of way (normally vaguely). The room itself hung with a heavy, yet simple luxury, large mahogany railings trailing up to the second floor. A pair of swords stood to her left, their jolted position paired with an immaculately clean condition hinted to their recent use. She’d been inspecting the mirror above when a noise from the upper floor caused her to raise her gaze.

“Oí, what are yout doin’ ‘ere?” A small, dark haired woman stared down from the landing. “Madame Vastra don’t take cases today, so whoever’s been murdered will have to wait.” She walked down the stairs, quizzically eying Yaz all the while. 

Yaz fumbled in her pocket for the cards, realizing the potato had made off with them. Desperate, she grasped a piece of notepaper with Alice’s message. Clearly, it had been the right thing, the woman paused. 

“Alice sent you?” 

“How’d you know?” She handed her the page. “I’m a friend of the Doctor. I was let in by your butler-”

“And he just left you here?” She rolled her eyes. “Follow me, the wife’ll need to see this.”

“The wife?” 

“My wife,” She smirked, “Madame Vastra.”

~~~

“This is most curious.” Delicately clutching the paper in two reptilian fingers, Madame Vastra’s face was set in between confusion and curiosity. Her wife, Jenny, peered over her shoulder, a cup of tea balanced precariously on her knee. 

“Very curious indeed.” The butler looked to, large eyes squinting. “What does it say?”

“You can read, Strax.” Jenny glared at him over Vastra’s veil.

He sulked. “Not her handwriting.”

“What do you think of it, Yasmin?” She extended it towards her, eyes wide and observing.

Yaz took the note, corners decorated in black and white stripes with the occasional green marring the perfection of the lines. Alice had clearly been hurried, her quick scrawl detailing a few sentences.

_ Pats- _

_ 13’s here with fam (3 comp.) _

_ V.S clockwork droids & fey _

_ 2 (G&R) taken _

_ Doc @ unknown location _

_ Looking 4 her/them/info _

_ Contact me via Yaz’s phone. _

_ -AM _

“Who’s Pats?” She squinted at Alice’s messy words. “And what does she mean when she says she’s looking for information?”

“We’re Pats.” Jenny grinned from her perch. “The Paternoster Gang.”

“And as for information, we have little.” Vastra stared past them, deep in thought. “Very little.” Her wife placed a hand on her shoulder, jolting back to reality. “We’ll search the library for what we’ve uncovered while we wait for more news.” She gave Yaz a questioning look. “That is everything she told you, is it not?”

Yaz shifted in her seat uncomfortably. “She said she’d let me know if she’d need Pond, whatever that meant.”

The instant the phrase left her lips, the room’s atmosphere seemed to change. Jenny and Vastra locked eyes, a silent conversation passing between them. A thoughtful look crossed Strax’s face as he watched the pair discuss. After a moment, they seemed to reach a decision, a solemn nod passing between them. Vastra turned to her, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. 

“Jenny and I will delve into the library. Strax can escort you to,” she paused, “Professor Song for you to brief her.”

“Wait- What’s Pond, who is Professor Song? Is she a friend of the Doctor?” Yaz’s mind tried to mull over the information.

Vastra’s expression, however, didn’t change as she stood. “Strax will escort you.”

“Come, boy.” He got up and held open a door. “Let me escort you.”

She followed him gingerly, feeling their eyes on her as she left. 

~~~

Strax led her up the mahogany staircase through to a heavy mahogany door. Gesturing towards it, he turned to her. 

“The Professor.” His duties complete, he plodded back down the hall, no doubt to help in the library.

Left to her own devices, Yaz took a moment to steady herself before knocking. The thick wood felt cool under her knuckles, the sound echoing down the corridor. 

From the other side of the door, she heard the scraping of a drawer closing and the nonchalant, 

“Come in.”

She turned the knob, letting the door swing gently open with the slightest creak coming from the hinges. While the facade of the house seemed large and imposing, this room, like so many of the others, seems light and airy in comparison.

Light streamed through two large windows, illuminating a desk set between them, strewn with papers and books of all kinds overflowing off and onto the floor. A bed was set in a far corner, sheets messily arranged in a way that appeared as though someone had meant to make it, but gotten distracted halfway through. A woman peered up to look at her from an easy chair, curly blonde hair floating around her head like a lion’s mane. The table next to her held a cup of tea, stone cold by the looks of it, precariously balanced on what appeared to be a loaded gun. Yaz heard a cough, her eyes returning to the woman’s bored expression.

“Yes?”

“Professor Song?” The woman nodded, so she continued. “I’m Yasmin Khan, a friend of the Doctor’s-”

“The Doctor?” She tossed the book she’d been reading onto a stack near her desk, smirk growing. “Tell me, what the hell has my husband gotten himself into this time?”


	3. Looking for a friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think! 
> 
> Your comments give me life and the world is currently on fire!

Alice watched as Yaz walked down the street and out of sight, weapon relatively concealed in the overflowing folds of her skirt. Turning back to the market, she smirked.

She had the beginning of an investigation.

The start of an investigation was always the most enjoyable, especially in a murder mystery. Characters would be introduced, facts would be presented, and key details would be hidden in plain sight. 

Not that any of that would be challenging for Poirot, Ms. Fisher, or whatever well dressed person was on the case. 

Unfortunately, Alice had found herself to be nowhere near as talented, or presented with mysteries that wrapped themselves up in neat packages by the hour mark. 

And, seeing as there was (as of yet) no body, she’d have to look at it a different way.

Forget BBC, she’d have to rely on a different set of rules. 

That began with casing the joint.

Filled with what appeared to be both human and fae, the market was nothing less than bustling as customers flocked to get the last produce before winter engulfed the crops. 

The closer she looked at their fruit and vegetables, the more it was clear of an inhuman hand. Apples were pretty enough, skin a bright sheen, and sweeter than they should have been for the late harvest. Almost Lovecraftian in their perfection. A few purchases acquainted her with a number of subtly alarming suspects, eager to please once their eyes landed on her diadem. 

One woman, whose pears had ripened to a mouthwatering taste, regarded her kindly. As she wrapped a few in paper, Alice reached for her purse. 

She felt it before she saw the little creature, gloved hand slipping into the satin folds, grasping the cool metal of a coin purse-

And feeling the bag cinch up as Alice whirled around, wrist trapped with a thick cord of silk. Towering over (if only slightly), she regarded the child, dark eyes wide with shock as the face came into view, hood fallen from the whiplash. 

Fear seemed to set over their face, breath quickening and body shaking as their eyes darted back and forth, face paling almost green.

That was odd, she’d never seen skin pale like that. 

Understanding hit her like a current as she pulled the hood over her little thief, crouching to eye level. 

“You need an illusion?”

A vigorous nodding was the response. 

“Here,” she took her veiled hat out from under her skirt, covering what the hood let slip through. “I might have a job for you, darling. Do you think you could help me?” 

Two little gloves paused playing with the lace to register the question before nodding again.

“Good.” A slow smile grew as Alice took one of the small hands in her own. “I’ve got to explain a few things first.”

~~~

Graham and Ryan were both gone. 

Yaz was hiding.

She had no idea what she was up against.

To put it quite frankly, things were relatively challenging for the Doctor.

She was used to not knowing exactly what something was, the ghosts with Clara for instance, but those were few and far between.

To complicate matters, they weren’t subjected to the mysteries of space with a few easily corrallable pawns, they were in the middle of a well populated farmer’s market.

And practically everything was made of wood.

Besides the clockwork figures that seemed to be stationed around as what she assumed was a form of security, the stalls were entirely fashioned of wood with no visible (or detectable) traces of metal to be found. 

The collection of events were what had led her to attempting to inconspicuously skulk around the outer corners of the hubbub, cursing her short stature for her inability to look over the crowd and her sonic for its current uselessness. 

Scanning the crowd brought up nothing but confusing readings and Victorian glares from those who’d noticed the odd noise.

Children, pickpockets, and combinations of the two flitted in and out of the dense crowd, slipping past with their ill gotten gains. One in particular stopped a few feet from her, face hidden from view with a veil connected to a small blue hat. The hat bobbed up and down a few moments before approaching her cautiously. 

“Are you the Doctor?”

She looked down at the little figure suspiciously. “Who’s askin’?”

A gloved hand was thrust out, holding a picture a few inches in height and a playing card. “She wanted me to give these to you.”

“Alright then.” Taking them from their grasp, she raised them to eye height.

The picture was simple, a small printout of her mid run, screwdriver extended. She eyed the owner carefully. “How’d you get this?”

Her only response was gesturing to the card.

Warily tearing her sight from her surroundings, she eyed the card carefully. A queen of hearts, cheaply bought from what appeared the 21st century. Flipping it, she raised her eyebrows to see a note in gold pen. 

I’ll think about it maybe

XO baby

-AM

Holding back a smirk, her gaze returned to the little figure. “Take me to her.”

~~~

The pair arrived at the outskirts of the market, the outline of a woman (young, by the looks of it) blue skirt falling around her in waves of satin, visible through the trees. She turned as they approached, her lips curling into a teasing smile. 

“Hello, Doctor.”

“What if this had fallen into the wrong hands? And,” she gestured vaguely to the hat, who'd slipped next to her on the bench as Alice placed a vial in an open palm, “how do you know you can trust-”

“Her,” Alice watched as the girl drank the vial and removed the hat, pink skin creeping down her face like water droplets, color flushing out green cheeks and impish eyes. “She's called Ayla. I'm not allowed to make myself familiar with the Paternoster Street Irregulars, so I had to find my own.” She offered a basket out to her, noticing Ayla’s eyes trained on it, rapt with hunger. “Take as much as you want. I've missed tea by now, so I'm sure Jenny won't mind.”

The Doctor continued to eye her warily. “You still need to be careful, you're too trusting.”

“That rich coming from you.” 

“What do you mean by that?” 

She rolled her eyes. “Your best friend is a murderous psychopath who you continue to trust, despite her--his--their tendency to try to kill you and those you care about.” Pulling a compact out from a pocket, she admired her reflection.

The remark cut closer than she’d have liked. “With your parentals being who they are, you’re not one to claim to have the moral high ground.” Alice’s scowl deepened at the response.

“That was their job, one they’ve since put behind them.” She glared through the mirror before snapping it closed. “Now, do you want to lose this particular argument, or get your companions? No one appears to be paying attention right now, and the tin men are on rotation every twenty two minutes.”

“How did you know?” Any harshness had been erased from her voice, eyebrows narrowing in a concerned manner.

“I ran into Yaz and sent her to Vastra and Jenny’s. Got the text a few minutes ago, she’s safe and staying there if I have anything to say about it. This isn’t something for a muggle to deal with.”

“A muggle?”

“Mortal doesn’t work and you wouldn’t understand the other word. Which brings me to my point.” Alice leaned over, resting her chin on a fist. “What are we dealing with?”

Eyes quickly darting to Ayla, she lowered her voice. “The clockwork people, from the last time I was here.”

“And who? If I remember it, their leader got impaled and they all went off and crashed in a big balloon or something.” She waved her other hand vaguely. “It’s been awhile since I’ve seen it. The point is, someone either bought some or got them out of the rubble and fixed them. Who?”

The Doctor mumbled something, causing Alice’s ears to perk up. “What was that?”

“I’m not sure.” She shrugged. “They're not human.”

“Scan me.” The command came bluntly. “Use your magic wand and tell me what you see.”

Grudgingly, she complied, muttering how it wasn’t a magic wand. “Now what?”

“Scan the crowd, there’s a great deal of them there, it should pick up.”

Her eyes widened as she saw the results.

“They're the same, aren’t they?” Alice grinned excitedly, like a child proud of a test score. “They’re similar, at least. You’ve been thinking they were aliens of some sort, but they’re not, they're-”

“-faeries.” An excited grin spread across her own face. “I didn’t think there were any, and certainly not at this volition. It’s a community, a working community.” She paused, face mid-scronch. “What do they want Graham and Ryan for?”

“That’s what I’m not sure about.” Alice bit her lip. “They’re various types of fey and short of a mechanic to get rid of all the iron on those things, I don’t see why they’d need them, or want them for that matter.”

“Anything Tatania told you?”

She shrugged, noncommittally. “Everyone who wasn’t her was a peasant and peasants were of no use. We’ll have to look into it ourselves.”

“You’re coming? You could get seriously hurt.” Worry crossed her mind. “We’ve never dealt with anything like this before.”

“You’ve never dealt with anything like this before. I know the customs and I speak the language. I love you, dear, but they’re not about to let you free once you’ve got what you wanted, if you even get that far.” Readjusting her tiara, she gave a satisfied smirk. “I can handle this much better than you can.”

“I can speak the language just fine, thank you.” She glared indignantly.

“Can you read it?”

“That’s not fair!”

“Neither are they. We’re going against creatures of chaos and you’re going to need more than just a screwdriver that doesn’t work on the common medium.” Slipping one arm through her basket and grasping Ayla’s hand with the other, Alice gave the Doctor a cursory glance. “I don’t have any other jewelry, so we’ll have to say you’re my companion. That should work.”

“Should I call you Doctor, too?”

“You’re in my world, darling,” she turned over her shoulder to give a smirk. “Your majesty will do just fine.”

**Author's Note:**

> For more information on Alice, check out "Alright People Let's Do This One Last Time, or (if you're feeling lazy) ask me in the comments or email me (littlequeenofdreams@gmail.com).
> 
> I take all sorts of ideas, so let me know if there's a prompt you want me to write or something you'd like to see. (With or without Alice)
> 
> I know original characters can be annoying at times, but I've been developing Alice for a while now (I've got an entire section of my wall covered in notecards and string dedicated to her story and how it's all fleshed out).
> 
> (If any of you get the Six reference, know that I love you)
> 
> ALSO, IF YOU WANT MORE, PLEASE BUG ME! I have a lot of stories that I'm writing right now and, while I intend to finish all of them, I want to prioritize the ones that people actually read!


End file.
